Hot Match

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The following morning, Maria was out of the hospital wing, which suited the young witch since she hated missing classes; catching up was always terrible and the end of year exams were coming. She was still a bit tired but didn’t let that affect her mood: after their previous evening’s kiss, it had become pretty clear to the both of them that they held something beyond attraction and lust, something that seemed to come from way deeper. The sheer thought made her skin crawl with pleasure.

She wasn’t bothered too much about her absence, since nobody knew about what had happened and this time, she wasn’t going to mention it to Hermione. It would only stir a new ruckus about how Draco was ‘unsuited’ for her at the present time. How could he be so when the mere thought of him made her heart want to jump out of her rib cage?

Maria spent all her free time in the library, preparing for the well anticipated exams. They weren’t as stressful as the OWLs they had passed the previous year; nonetheless, they were still important tests. However, she soon found it more efficient to study in her common room, because every time Draco came to join her in the library, keeping her concentration somehow became a most challenging task. When he sat at the far end of the room, she could manage; it was when he sat right next to her that her mind kept trailing off. She would constantly glance at him, an intense feeling of warmth enveloping her, his scent numbing her brain and senses. And the best – or worst, depending on the perspective – part was that she simply could not help it.

The feeling was mutual. Whenever Draco was close to her, he had to master all the self-control he had not to extend his hand and close the surprisingly highly irritating space between them. He seriously began to dread their potions class together: he was starting to wonder how they could possibly get through it safely. Nevertheless, it would be an interesting test.

Sometimes, they stayed late in the library and did some research together on Defence against the Dark Arts. They basically looked for anything that might be useful for when Death Eaters would invade the castle in – they both preferred to ignore it – a very short time. They sat, literally glued together, and enjoyed these stolen moments of bliss... every now and then reminding themselves to breathe properly.

It was while in this pleasurable position that they started discussing what the outcome of this scheme could be and both made their worry apparent. Truth was they simply had no clue what could happen. Would Voldemort want revenge over Draco for not killing Dumbledore? Would the school even successfully send off the Death Eaters? And what would be expected of Draco afterwards?

"I guess I’ll have to stick with Voldy’s buddies until the Golden Boy triumphs…" Draco said melodramatically, slouching onto his extended arm over the table.

"But there has to be another way!" Maria tried, tensing and shifting beside him, his arm around her.

"Like running? Might as well hand him my head on a silver and green platter," he snorted. "Everyone who’s been into hiding either ended up killed, tortured, or tortured and then killed."

Draco paused and shuddered, suddenly remembering all the horrors he had seen and been through since he had become a Death Eater.

"Let’s just hope the Boy Who Lived doesn’t become the Boy Who Died."

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